


Not Cute, Baby

by little_dead_girl



Category: Baby Driver (2017)
Genre: Abduction, Abuse, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Baby held captive, Doc was stubborn, Eventual Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Search and Rescue, buddy is angry, job gone wrong
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-07-22
Packaged: 2018-12-04 00:03:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11543226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/little_dead_girl/pseuds/little_dead_girl
Summary: Doc wasn't going to be giving this one up if it killed him. Bats was in it for the dough. Buddy for Baby.Lucky, the three made it out without a scratch.Baby on the other hand...





	1. Chapter 1

“Baby, I swear to God if you hit repeat on the opening to Chorus Line one more time I’ll use these keys to start the ignition in your eye sockets.”

Baby lifted his thumb from the rewind button on his iPod. The small device sat on his thigh as he continued to stare ahead through his discount gas station Ray Bans. He hadn't realized the music in his ears was loud enough for Doc to hear, especially over the scratching of chalk, the murmur between the others at the table… and the fact they were on opposite sides of the room. 

This heist had been in the works for weeks; pitfalls and idiots setting them back each time they were close to making a move. In fact, the group that sat there this time was entirely different than the one Doc had initially planned the job with. Four others meant for this had ended up dead. Baby didn't know how; didn't want to either. 

Buddy was there. Came back early from a ‘little get away’ with Darling at Docs call. Good, thought Baby. Bats was there too, smugly twirling a gold watch that was too small for his own wrist around his finger. The timepiece was embellished with glistening red blood splatter. Less good, Baby frowned. 

“Yo, Doc. Where's number four, huh?” Bats hummed, kicking his feet up onto the metal table top, “Bastard’s makin’ us wait.”

Tucking the chalk nib into his pocket, Doc turned on his heel, sending Bats a dry look. “You might start by getting your shoes off the ‘Bastard’s’ table.” The room was a photograph away from being dead still. The hum of tunes from Baby’s buds saved them from an entirely stifling silence.

After a long beat, Bats slowly pulled his legs back to thud heavily on the concrete. He cleared his throat, hesitating on the next comment with eyes lingering between his feet. “I uh...Doc, correct me if I heard that wrong. You tellin’ us you're gonna be the fourth man in on this?” He risked a glance up at the boss, finding himself really glad Doc’s pupils weren't pistols.

Doc raised an eyebrow, hands planted on the table. “Problem?” Baby nervously flicked through his playlist, letting the search stop when he landed on Green Day's ‘Say Goodbye’. “Not cute, Baby,” catching the ricochet from Doc’s deadly look, he finally dropped the volume of his iPod till he was sure it was much harder to hear. 

“Listen, Doc, I don't think the kid’s trying to be funny,” Buddy finally spoke up, forearms supporting him as he leaning forward on the table, “His song choice might not be too far off base. This sounds like a really bad idea.” Hands held up casually in defense, he continued, “Not that I don't think you can do the job; I’m absolutely sure you can. But if you got caught, or so much as recognized, that'd be bad news for everyone.”

“I've got half of this city under my thumb, Buddy, no one would be dim enough to fucking touch me. This job has taken too much for me to trust just anyone with it. I've got my best guys here, and the four of us are doing this thing. Tonight.” Doc looked around the room, making sure the three men before him were hearing loud and clear. “Got it?”

/----/

The heist was generally straightforward. Straightforward didn't mean easy. A huge weapons manufacturer had a string of substantial deals within the previous month, paid full in cash. Doc had a guy- when did he not- who’d let slip the date and time for the payload to be moved out of town. By now, too much time had been wasted setting up the job, and now they only had two days until the money was gone for good. 

“Bats and I are gonna be lighting up warehouse first, get some chaos going and take them by surprise. Buddy, wait a thirty count before jumping in. They'll have shaken off the initial shock factor by then, so we’ll let them think they can regroup before hitting them again. As soon as you're on the ground, Baby is going to ditch the car and lift a new one. Make it a fast one, kid. Something low profile that'll rip us outta there real fast. 

“The drop is already in a van in holding. Bats, I need you to get that started and leave the back open for Buddy and I to hop in. I don't care if the doors aren't shut, get us out. We’ll skirt around to where Baby’ll be waiting with our new ride.”

“And we're sure they don't see this coming?” Buddy pressed, fingers tapping off tempo to what sang in Baby’s ears. “If we're already made-”

“ ‘Course we’re already made,” Doc spat, “If we weren't then this’d be said and done and I wouldn't be here running my mouth at your hollow skulls.”

“Gonna prep the car,” Baby said, pushing out from his seat.

This was an awful idea. But Doc had lost so much to get it off the ground that there was no way it was getting abandoned. Baby trusted him, but sometimes things just…

Nothing sounded right in his earbuds. The whole ride in the lift was fifteen seconds of a song. Skip. Repeat. Baby didn't have a stop-worrying-that-Doc’s-going-to-get-us-killed-and-do-your-damn-job song. He just didn't.

Getting to the parking garage, he immediately slipped himself into the driver's seat of the ride they’d be using and pocketed his shades. The engine hummed through Baby’s limbs, and he allowed his legs to fold up infront of him and chin to rest on his knees. The shuffling iPod lulled a stagnant calm into his head, allowing him to lightly drift off. With music singing in his ears and eyes gently shut, Baby had no idea when someone else appeared in the concrete garage and stepped around to stand outside the open driver side window. The jolt that shook him from his own thoughts shot from the tentative hand on his shoulder all the way out to his fingertips.

“Sorry, sorry,” Buddy tried, letting Baby pull out an earbud and before trying to talk again. “I didn't mean to give you a heart attack, I just wanted to talk.”

Baby wasn't one to ‘talk’. He definitely wasn't used to talking to anyone he worked with. Buddy had always been nice to him; nicer than anyone else Doc hired. But that sweet understanding smile Baby got from him felt so damn wrong coming from the face of such a dangerous man. A face that shouldn't be making his heart skip like that.

“Are you ok with this?”

“Ok with this?” Baby echoed.

Buddy frowned, “Yeah, kid. With this job, with Doc being the fourth guy,” he sighed, heavy fingers wrapping on the door frame nervously, “You've got a level head, Baby. I trust you. So if you say this is ok, then I’ll shut up, but if-”

“I trust Doc,” Baby interrupted, “And you. Bats…”

“Yeah,” laughed Buddy softly, “Bats is bat shit crazy.”

“Yeah.”

The elevator dinged, warning them of time running short. 

“Hey, thanks,” Buddy added quickly, “For saying you trust me. Even if you didn't mean that, I appreciate it.”

“I meant it.”

“Thanks.”

/----/


	2. Chapter 2

Baby was used to finding drives to the heists uncomfortable, but goddamn this took the cake. He hated when Bats gave his little pre-game speeches. But now, Baby decided he hated him not giving them even more. It was way too quiet. No teasing, flirting, or death threats. None of the things Baby thought he'd be thrilled without. Nothing but a song that didn't fit his mood and the metallic click of bullets being loaded into Buddy's magazine. They might as well have crashed; he figured it’d be less painful than whatever the hell this was. Driving was supposed to make Baby happier than anything in the world, but looking in the rear view mirror and seeing Doc’s intense stare looking back at him sucked the joy from his chest and left him bone dry.

Taking a breath for what felt like the first time since they pulled out of the parking structure, Baby took the car out of gear and set the hand brake. They’d pulled up across the street from a cold concrete slab of a building, poorly gated in by a tall fence that (even if the front gate hadn't already been two feet open and swaying with the hot night breeze) had enough gaps in the chain link for them to slip in untouched. 

Flickering orange fluorescent street lamps kept the surrounding grounds in a stuttering glow; something that’d only pass for decent lighting in a 1980’s horror flick. The whole thing put Baby off. He understood the weapons manufacturer wanting to go low profile, but this seemed… way too low profile. If Doc felt the same, he definitely wasn't letting it show. He cast a glance at Bats, punctuated with a curt nod and the two slipped out of the back doors more in sync than a mirror's reflection. 

Baby worried his lip, flicking on a new song to the beat of the closed doors. His body found a way to tense up even further when a heavy hand was placed on his knee, and his head turned mechanically to stare at Buddy.

“Relax, Baby. Everything's gonna go down right in there,” Buddy assured him, thumb working softly on his thigh.

“I know,” he lied. His face was hot. Was Buddy even watching the time?

“We’ll all be safe. Keep your head up and focus. Listen, Baby-”

“Five Seconds.”

“Shit, ok ok,” Buddy rushed, blindly reaching for the door handle, not yet turned away from Baby, “I’m getting out of here with you, I swear.”

“Buddy, go.”

Adrenaline kicked his ass out of the car more than Baby did. Door shut, bullet chambered, mask on, breathe. Buddy was a pro, done this a hundred times and this job was no different. Except it was. So many more risks. No Darling. Walking into a guarded place that knew they were coming. And Doc. Damn him. Dragging Baby into all his shit and Buddy couldn't do a thing because the poor kid was wrapped around that twisted man's finger and it just about made him want to…

‘Fuck, focus,’ he screamed at himself, ‘worry about it later. Just get the job done and get back to Baby.’ 

The side door to the warehouse swung uselessly, handle riddled with enough bullets to send a trypophobe off the deep end. Buddy charged in, gun barrel hot as he emptied three rounds into the unsuspecting back of a uniform. 

Nine dead, one dying, eleven more firing away. Doc seemed composed, but his ski mask was torn and jaw streaked with blood. Bats had one hand shooting, and the other clutching his side. Shit. 

Buddy slide to base, stopping behind a man using a shipping crate for cover. The shooters neck broke with a satisfying crunch, body slipping from Buddy's arms to the floor in a heap. He took out two more with shots to the chest from that spot. 

“Bats, beat it and find the van,” he heard Doc bark, “Buddy and I can take care of the rest of this.” And they could. Easily it seemed. 

Something wasn't sitting right with Buddy about that. For guards of a weapons manufacturer, two days before their entire payload was to be shipped out, these goons seemed pretty damn pathetic. The concern in his head voiced itself as he took down another with ease, shouting over to Doc who’d just made a portrait of brain matter on the wall, “Doc, something's really wrong about this.”

“Shut up and do your job,” he heard his employer growl, “Everything's just fuckin’ peachy.”

Even Doc knew that was shit.

/----/

Baby waited until Buddy was through the fence before he ditched their ride. Sneakers hit pavement as he took off down the street. ‘Car, car, car, c’mon Baby choose a car.’ Doc wanted low profile and fast. Damn warehouse, in the middle of the night; the place was littered with u-hauls and pickups, neither of which would have him passing go and collecting two hundred dollars. 

But the way Baby’s fingers twitched and eyes clouded when he saw that sleek black 1990 XJ-Series Jaguar sitting pretty for him right there, nestled among the rows of commercial vans; he had to have it. Fast, low, it fit the Doc's orders. Distant gun fire and ‘Hello Operator’ had his ears ringing as he descended upon the freshly waxed beast, and he only wished he didn't need to shatter the side window to make her purr.

“Do ya’ like my car, kid?”

He froze in his spot, crouched on the ground. The tool that fell from his hand and clattered to the pavement, echoing the sound his heart should be making as it dropped dead out of his chest. There were a few reasons Baby liked staying behind the wheel. The gun nuzzling up to his throat was definitely one. When his ear lost contact with the earbud that was tugged from it, he realized he was actually expected to reply.

Jaw locked in fear, Baby gave a slight nod.

“Oh good!” the man sang, “I do too. Real fine thing there, isn't she?”

Baby tempted again to move his head yes, letting the muzzle of the gun dig in harder with each movement.

“Ya’ know, I’d figured Doc would have you trained up a little better,” mused the cold voice, not moving from where it loomed behind him, “When I ask a question, I expect to hear a reply. I ain’t talkin just to hear my mouth run. So what d’ya say, can you do that for me?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Well would you look at that,” beamed the man in faux delight, “Baby's first words.”

/----/

Fast approaching sirens hurdled towards the warehouse, growing louder each second. Buddy and Doc were both speckled generously with blood. The side of Buddy's face throbbed unapologetically, shaming him for the blow he caught to the jaw from a frantic guard who’d run out of ammo and opted to take a swing at him instead of laying down quietly to die.

“Cops,” Doc hissed through grit teeth, “Don't got time for this. Book it, Buddy.”

The two of them took off towards the shipping hold, following the rumble of Bats and the waiting carrier van. Open doors and stuffed duffel bags greeted them just as Doc said they would. Lunging into the back of the vehicle, he shouted, “Bats, step on it!”

“Yeah I hear ya’, boss,” was shot back, and with that, screeching tires tore out of the hold.

‘Maybe Doc was right,’ Buddy tried to assure himself, ‘We’ll get outta here ok.’

“Fuck!”

‘Or not.’

They’d rammed through the closed back gate without a problem, drifting out onto the street. Bats sped towards the meet up spot; he was far from the best get away driver, but under the circumstances would be good enough. 

“What's up, Doc?” Buddy pressed frantically, looking the other man up an down, sure he was injured or something. 

Doc had been riffling through one of the bags, and now had a look on his face like whatever was inside had killed his sweet ol' mother. Ignoring Buddy's concern, he barked over his shoulder towards the drivers seat, “Fucking get to Baby immediately.”

“Doc, what the hell’s going on?” Buddy spat. The duffle bag flew from Docs hands and hit Buddy square in the chest with a heavy thud. Staring apprehensively at the enraged man in front of him, Buddy thrust his hand through the zippered opening of the navy canvas bag. He pulled out a stack of bills. Or, a stack of something. 

“This…” he started, staring at the brick of white paper in his fist. Ripping the sheets out of their binding, checking each one as if it’d spell out a different answer, Buddy felt the color drain from his face like a stopper had been ripped from the tub holding his own blood. 

‘Rock-a-bye, Baby, in the tree top.  
When the wind blows, the cradle will rock.  
When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall.  
Down will come baby,  
Cradle and all.’

“Holy shit, no no no!” Buddy roared, grabbing another duffel bag, just to find it filled with the same leaflets. He pitched a fistful of papers against the van wall, letting them explode and litter the floor.

The breaks shrieked, sending the vehicle to a standstill at the meeting place. The three men burst out onto the street, eyes sweeping the area for any sign of their getaway driver, but finding themselves alone. 

“The fuck,” Bats whirled around, getting in Docs face, “Where's the brat?”

Buddy took a shaky breath, daring himself to wake up from whatever screwy nightmare this had to be.

“Baby's gone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Baby is listening to is "Hello Operator" by White Stripes


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeeey guys so this chapter is really for setting up who Baby's dealing with and how the crime family is taking it. Next chapter will get...messy. I promise.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

That was the last time he was going to try being agreeable. 

Pop quiz. When there are guns trained on your back and nowhere to run, which of the following is the most logical course of action?

A.) Try to stick to the plan your boss gave you and attempt to get away

B.) Discretely use the cell phone in your pocket to call for help

C.) Don't try to go against the scary men with guns at all, and instead make yourself as little a threat as humanly possibly by putting your hands behind your back slowly and calmly so that it's obvious you don't plan to put up any sort of fight

D.)All of the Above 

If your answer was, “Fuck you, that's a trick question!” then congrats, you passed. 

If you answered any of the given choices, then you’ve failed the class and will shortly be waking up cuffed to a metal chair in the middle of a cold, dark, empty room with a throbbing headache (since the butt of a gun decided to drop kick your skull) and the soul crushing realization that your iPod is anywhere other than by your side will kick in shortly. 

Baby chose answer C.

He sank deeper into his chair, wincing against the creak of a door and cold fluorescent lights being flicked on in the room. 

“Good morning, Sunshine,” sang the same voice Baby had heard at the warehouse. Letting his eyes flutter open slightly, still squinting against the blinding glare, he took the opportunity to finally size up his captor. 

He was tall, leaning calmly against the brick with arms crossed and a soft smirk painted on his lips. A non-descript black t shirt and unironed blue jeans dressed the strangers built frame. Beyond a couple of casual black tattoos and a few freckles, the only thing that stood out about his half tanned skin were rough silvery scars that raised from his arms. Each mar criss crossed haphazardly and looked as if he may have entered a cage fight with a rabid meat grinder. 

“Morning,” Baby mumbled, wondering if that really was the time of day. The room had no windows set into the brick walls, or any clock to speak of. With the room finally something other than pitch black for the first time since he woke up, Baby took a quick glance around to notice a bare metal table to his right and half faded reddish brown stains in the concrete floor. The rest of the room was empty; except for himself, the stranger, and whatever tortured ghosts stuck around to lurk in the corners.

“How's your head?” asked the man, keeping that smug look stretched across his sunken cheeks. He looked like the kind of guy who used to go out bar hopping with his crew (until his girlfriend left him, mother died, and bank foreclosed his home all in the same month). His dark blonde hair was pulled back in a loose knot at the nape of his neck, and stubble crept over his jaw and upper lip. Grey eyes patiently waited for a reply, but the sleepless dark shadows around them left Baby nervous to answer at all. 

Remembering the warning he got at the warehouse, he swallowed past the dryness in his mouth, offering up, “Could be better.”

“I bet,” the man's eyes narrowed, focusing somewhere else rather than on Baby, “ ‘m sorry. The idiot that sent you to dreamland won't be a problem no more though. Took care of that myself, ok?”

Baby's lips pinched as he fought to keep his expression flat. ‘Took care of that,’ as if there was a screw that needed tightening, not a person now dead. If he was honest, the gesture reminded him of what happened when Doc’s hirees put out a less than satisfactory performance. “Ok.”

“Great.”

“Who are you?”

The man laughed as he sized up the kid sitting in front of him, “You’re gonna ask about me? Not yourself? Not, ‘Why am I here?’, ‘Where am I?’, ‘When can I go home?’. You must be a hit on first dates, hm? I'm sold.”

Baby shrugged, blinking expectantly as he waited for an answer.

“You can call me Nick.”

“Nick.”

“Yep.”

Baby nodded to himself, shuffling through his mental flashcards, wondering if he was supposed to know the name. Nothing was coming to mind. He was sure this guy’d never been on a heist for Doc. He didn't remember anyone who had mentioned him. It's not like he could have been a hire from before Baby started driving; this guy couldn't be too much older than himself, and maybe only by a couple of years.

“Ok,” Baby decided to move on, “What do you want?”

“Back with more questions about me!” Nick gasped in faux surprise, “Baby, really, you're making me blush!”

Baby didn't reply.

“I want Doc.”

“You have me.”

“Oooh look here, we’ve got our own resident genius! That's right darling, I do have you,” pushing off the wall, Nick paced over to Baby, taking his chin in hand and tilting the driver's face this way and that as if he were examining an apple he was considering taking a bite out of, ”And you can get out when Doc turns himself in.”

“He won't do that,” Baby said, tugging his jaw loose from Nicks grasp.

“Good, I’m counting on it.” The two shared a look; Baby's eyes squinting with apprehension and Nicks looking down at him over his nose smugly. He ran his tongue over his lips, hand reaching over to tug his captives head back by a fistful of hair, “I don't plan to give his Babydoll back without a few scratches.”

/----/

“Well where the fuck is he, Doc?” 

Buddy’d been pacing and shouting and tossing chairs since they’d gotten back. ‘I’m getting out of here with you, I swear.’ Fuck. He lied to Baby. Not really. Not that he knew this was going to happen. There's no way he could have known.

Except he should have. Damn it. He didn't feel right about this from the start. He new Baby would stay loyal to Doc to a fault. It should have been on Buddy to call this off. His gut feeling was right, and he ignored it. 

Darling was already on her way back to town; he’d called her as soon as they'd made it back. She’d told him it’d be ok, and that Baby would be fine. She knew. He really didn't want her to. Buddy had tried to be discrete about everything but she wasn't dumb. She noticed quickly that Buddy was falling for the quiet getaway driver; that he’d grown attached and attracted and in turn entirely protective. 

And now she was coming back to support him and help him find Baby. Darling was too good to Buddy and he knew it.

“If I knew then we wouldn't be standing around here, now would we?” Doc growled, back towards them. He’d been staring at the half smeared chalk board for a good long while, and Buddy wasn't sure if he was thinking or retreating.

“Can ya’ track his phone?” Bats offered. He sat in a chair pulled against the wall, forearms resting on his thighs and fingers laced together.

“Can't track burners. Part of why I give them to him,” was the exasperated reply, “And even if I could, I think it's been either disabled or destroyed. It's not getting any calls and texts are being declined.”

“So, what, he’s just gone? That's it. We’re just throwing in the towel? Un fucking beliva-”

“What the hell are we supposed to do?” Doc shouted, whirling around and cutting Buddy off short, “If I knew where the kid was then I’d go and get him back myself. If we knew anything about who took him, the car that drove him off even, I'd have the whole fucking city on his trail. We have nothing! So unless the people who have him make a move to get our attention, we can't do a goddam thing.”

Buddy and Bats both looked at him intently, unsure of what to say. “I want him back, Doc,” Buddy finally mumbled, eyes dropping to the floor.

“I know,” his employer sighed, voice resigned and unsure, “But until I figure out how to do that, you both should go. No use stickin’ around this place.”

And at that, the men parted ways, leaving Doc alone to consider all that he’d done wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again so much for sticking around and reading! Your comments have all been so sweet!

**Author's Note:**

> More comming, I promise. Let me know what you think, I'd love the feedback!


End file.
